Yesterday’s excursion to “the broken city of Boston” as my eight year old calls it (She hasn’t seen Baghdad) was a huge success minus the first ten minutes of arrival as the whole limping lot of us desperately searched for a “John” after a 1.5 hour car ride. That, and the direct sucker punch to the face that my small but effective son landed in my daughters face at the finale of the Blue Man Group Performance (I think the strobe lights made him do it).
The sun was shining in Boston Commons Gardens before the show and we got to watch as people rode the Swan Boats while we fed the ducks, and the kids oohed and ahhed the swans, and met up with my oldest brother who usually is a bit of a crabby pants but promised to be on his best behavior for the event. Mr. Goodbar was awesome with the motley crew that is my family- and graciously made conversation, gestures, and actions consistant with someone who has an active interest in connecting with those of us around him (love that).
As I nervously waited for the show to start I looked to my right and saw my Mother, Brother and Son, and to my left at My Daughter and Mr. Goodbar- and I felt HAPPY. REALLY HAPPY. The only thing better than this moment was watching my crabby pants brother let go and howl in laughter, glee, and hysterics as each portion of the performance got more and more outrageous. I’m not sure if I was laughing harder at the performance or watching him watch the performance.
After the big giant orbs were let down from the ceiling, but before the sucker punch I said I small prayer of gratitude in the strobing light of my life and the people in it I call family. Thanks for a beautiful, wonderful, performance art day kind of a day.
I’ll never forget it.